nightmare
by Rinja
Summary: A post-Orison I had been slaving over for a while. Involves a little Mulder!Angst, some Scully!Angst, and a little MSR


DISCLAIMER: All things X belong to Chris Carter, 1013, and FOX. I wish I owned them but obviously...I don't. Mulder and Scully were not harmed in the making of this fanfic.  
  
TITLE: nightmare  
  
AUTHOR: rinja_x  
  
CATEGORY: There's a little Mulder Angst and a little Scully Angst and I'm trying for some MSR as well.  
  
RATING: R to be on the safe side, in the dream there's some rough violence.  
  
SPOILERS: None that I know of. It's post-"Orison".  
  
FEEDBACK: Criticism is welcome. spookyshipper@yahoo.com  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: The dialogue in the beginning was taken directly from "Orison" and I wanted to use it as a lead in. Got to give credit for what's not mine. This is a post-ep and it focuses on Scully's reaction to the events involving Pfaster. Enjoy!  
  
nightmare  
  
* ~ * ~ *  
  
"If you want to pack some things we can get outta here." Mulder said as he walked into my bedroom. I pulled open a dresser drawer, revealing my copy of the Holy Bible. I felt the strong weight of guilt in my hand as I lifted it out of the drawer. Mulder noticed the book I held. "You can't judge yourself." he tried to reassure me. I walked over to my bed and carefully sat my beaten body down.  
  
"Maybe I don't have to." I told him.  
  
"The Bible allows for vengeance."  
  
"But the law doesn't."  
  
"The way I see it," Mulder began as he leaned toward me, "he didn't give you a choice. And my report will reflect that in case you're worried. Donnie Pfaster would have surely killed again if given the chance."  
  
"He was evil Mulder. I'm sure about that without a doubt. But there's one thing that I'm not sure of." I said softly.  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"Who was at work in me? Or what? What made me -- what made me pull the trigger?"  
  
"You mean what if it was God?"  
  
"I mean -- what if it wasn't?" I looked him in the eye for a moment, but switched my glance to the floor realizing the strength of the mildly rhetorical question. There was a beat of silence. I could sense that Mulder wanted to say something. Instead I felt his hand on my shoulder. I looked up at him and he simply said with a nod to the door,  
  
"Come on."  
  
Once I packed a bag and changed I took a look at my bedroom. The bookcase was fallen, spilling my collection of novels, as well as figurines and anything else that happened to be on a shelf. There were stains of crimson blood, possibly my own, that dotted the once clean carpet. I scanned over my disheveled bed to where my mirror once hung. The frame now lay atop my dresser covered in shattered glass. More pieces scattered the floor. I closed my eyes briefly attempting to block out the events that occurred. A shudder shook me back into reality and I turned to leave.  
  
The police had finally cleared out. I was grateful Mulder had been there to answer their questions for me. As I walked to the living room I could still smell a faint scent of lit matches combined with the dying fragrance of my candles, though they had been extinguished for some time now. Mulder was lying on the couch. He stirred when he realized I was in the room. I stopped after I crossed the thresh hold and looked down at the large burgundy stain on the rug. The light markings of a chalk outline could still be seen. I heard Mulder stand and I said softly,  
  
"Let's go"  
  
Mulder tried to make conversation on the ride to his apartment. But I think after a short while he realized I didn't want to talk and he didn't push the issue. He knew me well. The remainder of the drive was in silence. Even after Mulder parked the car we still said nothing. The level of unspoken communication between us was strong. It wasn't until we had stepped inside his apartment that he uttered,  
  
"Do you want a shower, Scully?" I thought about it for a moment, but Mulder seemed to think it wasn't his place to ask such a question. "Sorry. Was that too forward of me?" he asked sheepishly.  
  
"No, not at all." I replied as I turned around. Mulder nodded and moved to lock the deadbolt on the door. I gave a look back at him and headed toward his bathroom. After closing the door behind me I slowly shed my constricting clothing and turned on the water. As it warmed up I inspected myself to see if there were any injuries I might have missed. Seeing my naked figure in the mirror was unsettling, I had never seen myself look so vulnerable. I turned away from the defeated reflection and returned to the shower.  
  
Steam began to swirl around in the tiny room, creating an eerie fog. The slight burn of the water seemed to relax me. I almost self-consciously crossed my arms over my breasts and placed my hands on my shoulders. For a moment I let the water massage my tired frame. I ran a hand through my wet hair. "Ah, dammit." I said aloud. My index finger found a remaining chip of glass. A speck of blood oozed from where I was pricked. That's when I noticed my fingernails. There was a fine line of scarlet caked under them.  
  
Blood.  
  
Blood that was not mine. My hands showed traces of the struggle in my apartment. I took the bar of soap off its dish and began to scrub myself. As the lather began to form on my arms, I wanted to wash away the gritty feeling I had, the sense of guilt, and the memory of Donnie Pfaster.  
  
Pfaster. The image of his cryptic face was pulled to the surface though I tried desperately to suppress it. I would tell myself that working on the case didn't bother me, that I was fine with it, that I was okay, and that I could do my job. Subconsciously I knew I was kidding myself.  
  
I realized that this was post-traumatic stress talking. Due to the experience I had analyzing cadavers and things of the natural world, I developed a skill for analyzing myself. Such a talent could be considered a curse.  
  
For a fleeting moment, time seemed to melt away as I stood there breathing in the heavy steam. The water pushed the lather from my body and I saw a light red trail spiral down the drain. I closed my eyes for a moment but couldn't shake the events involving Donnie Pfaster. I turned around to grab a bottle of shampoo and began massaging it into my hair creating a rich lather. As the familiar scent floated around in the air, my thoughts focused turned to Mulder. While I rinsed the suds from my hair I did what I feared most. I lost control.  
  
The tepid water mixed with my scalding tears. I brought my hands to my face as if to conceal the pain and anger from myself. Soon my shoulders began to tremble uncontrollably. My face twisted in utter despair. Oh God. I thought. Stability failed me so I placed my hand against the cool tile wall. With a hand over my mouth, I tried to muffle my crying. I moved closer to the wall for support. My arms wrapped around my vulnerable body, trying to shield it from the terrible recollections flashing in my mind. Water raced down my back. I leaned into the wall almost as if I expected it to open up and embrace me.  
  
"Mulder." I said, though I didn't realize I had said it aloud. Suddenly a chill sliced through the warmth of the bathroom. I listened if there was anyone out there. After hearing nothing, I brushed it off as my imagination and turned off the water.  
  
Once I got dressed and combed my hair I walked out to the living room. There was an un-opened beer and a bag of chips on Mulder's coffee table. I leaned down and picked up videotape that lay near the remote control for the television. But before I could read the title, Mulder entered the room.  
  
"Hey, Scully. I didn't know you were out of the shower," he said as he came in from the kitchen with another drink in hand.  
  
"Yeah, I just finished."  
  
"I was going to crack open a beer and watch a movie, want to join me?" Mulder asked with a suggestive eyebrow. I gave a courtesy grin and shook my head in disagreement. He walked over to the couch and sat down. There was an awkward silence.  
  
"Did the shower help?" Mulder asked.  
  
"Yes, thank you. I actually, uh, was going to go to lie down. I just wanted to let you know."  
  
"Go on and take the bed then."  
  
"Mulder --"  
  
"Scully, go lie down, you look like you could use some rest." He placed his drink on the coffee table and rose from the couch. "I don't want to have to carry you in there." He wouldn't let me argue with him. I grinned and shook my head then padded into Mulder's bedroom. I turned down the sheets and slowly crawled into the large bed. I gingerly placed my head upon Mulder's pillow and buried my face in it to inhale the smell that held a sense of comfort for me. The sheets felt smooth against my skin. As I finally got comfortable, my exhausted eyes seemed to close under their own power. Before I fell asleep I noticed out of the corner of my eye a beam of light coming from the doorway. A small smile tugged at my lips.  
  
"I'll be fine, Mulder." I uttered lazily.  
  
"I was simply checking to see if you were comfortable, Scully," he said. I would have responded but the feeling of fatigue consumed me and I drifted off to sleep. The last thing I heard was the click from the door being closed.  
  
* ~ * ~ *  
  
I awoke in the dark to a stinging sensation in the side of my head. My mouth was sore. There was a taunt strip of cloth tied tightly around my head causing my cheeks to hurt. My hands and feet were bound. I weakly struggled to shift positions, but the slightest movement triggered pain to my temple. Once my eyes focused I slowly maneuvered myself near the light source coming from the crack in the door. Where the hell am I? My brain strained at processing what was going on. Then I saw a shadow sweep across the floor. Suddenly the door was pulled open. I shot back against a nearby wall in a lame attempt to protect myself. A man came into view. He bent down and removed the tie from my ankles then forcefully pulled me to my feet. Our eyes met for a split second and in that moment I felt the evil that he possessed swarm over my body. His grip tightened and a malevolent smile snaked across his lips.  
  
After being lead down a long hallway, I was pushed into the bathroom. It was larger than most and very expensive in design. There was a formal double sink to the right and the white porcelain toilet resided next to it. Candles covered just about every surface and a few were already lit. I then eyed an oversized bathtub nestled in the back under a window. He moved me over to the sink and untied my wrists but left the gag in my mouth. Jesus, his eyes were all over me. My mind was yelling to escape. You're an FBI agent for Christ sake. But I was paralyzed. He brought his hand to my jacket and began to push it aside. I pushed away from him. Pull off the god damned gag and run. Leave. Go! No matter how hard I tried to listen to myself, physically I refused. He took my wrist and brandished a knife then said,  
  
"Take it off." Unable to say anything, I felt like I had no choice. He released me long enough to remove the article of clothing. After a once over, he seemed disgustingly satisfied for the moment. Then he took me and tied my wrists to the towel bar which hung between the toilet and sink. "Now hold tight. It'll all be over soon." And with that he left the bathroom. I bent toward my hands and tried to pull the rag from my mouth. Once I was successful I worked on my hands. In a matter of minutes I had freed the left but my time had run out. He re-entered and saw my untied hand.  
  
"No!" he yelled. I slipped my other hand out and reached for a nearby candle. He lunged at me with his weapon. The blade managed to slice across the top of my right hand. I tried to grab the knife. Suddenly the pain returned to the side of my head and I became disoriented. He attacked me again, this time hitting my upper arm. I cried out and fell to the floor just missing the edge of the sink. He headed toward the bathtub and turned the water on. The thunderous sound pounded in my ears as I tried to regain my senses. I looked toward the door and tried to stand. He turned around sharply and seized my leg. I kicked him in his shin but he still managed to pull me in his direction and pin me to the floor. He brought my arms above my head and held them together. My right arm began to go numb from the stab wounds and blood started to seep into the bathmat as my body was pressed onto the tile. I winced as he tightened his hold on me, pulling my injured arm more than needed. The  
water still pounded in the tub. "You know" he began once he caught his breath, "I was going to slowly torture you. But I think I'll skip ahead." My lips moved as I tried to form words, but no sound escaped. He stood and turned the water off then paused for a moment and listened to something. I turned my head and heard a voice from down the hall.  
  
"Scully?" My eyes darted toward the door.  
  
"Mulder!" I yelled. A strong blow was delivered to my right cheek. Hot tears welled in my eyes as a blinding pain raced across my face. He then covered my mouth with his hand before I could put a voice my suffering. Mulder's footsteps grew closer. As my weary body was dragged to the bathtub I still tried desperately to fight against him. His hand pressed ever harder against my mouth, the taste on my lips was nauseating. Just then Mulder appeared in the doorway with his gun drawn.  
  
"Let her go, Pfaster." I felt him shift slightly to reach his knife. He then brought it in view and waved it about in a childlike manner to make sure Mulder saw it.  
  
"You're not going to take her from me. Not again," said Pfaster. Then he brought his face close to me and smelt my hair making my skin crawl. "Isn't that right Girly-Girl?" I saw Mulder tighten the grip on his gun and slowly enter the bathroom. Pfaster must have seen it as well because it gave him cause to take the knife to my shoulder. I cried out against his hand, this time extreme pain had finally reached me. I looked to Mulder for help as Pfaster lifted me off the floor and dropped me in the bathtub. The frigid cold water sent a shockwave through my body and stung my wounds. It hurt to move. I could feel my body shutting down. I took a gasp of air before Pfaster pushed down on my shoulders, holding me under the biting cold. All of my energy was slipping away and I physically couldn't struggle anymore.  
  
Two shots rang out.  
  
Pfaster was dead. His body slid into the bathtub with me. The water soon turned red with blood flowing from his fatal wound. There floated an image I could just have soon done without.  
  
I couldn't move. My breath slowed as I stared at the ceiling. Then I saw Mulder's face above me. He reached in and lifted my limp bloody body out. My soaked clothes clung to my frame. Mulder gently lay me down on the bathmat and used his jacket as a makeshift blanket.  
  
"Scully? Scully, talk to me. Come on." I felt his hand on my cheek and over my wet hair. I saw him stare into my lifeless eyes. Mulder then pulled out his cell phone. I knew he was calling for an ambulance. Once the call was placed Mulder began CPR. His lips felt warm against mine as he forced air into my mouth. I was so numb I barely felt the compressions. Desperation crossed Mulder's face after giving two sets of compressions and seeing no change. "God dammit Scully, come on! I'm not letting you leave me." I heard him say as he pressed on my chest. His composure began to waver as he tried frantically to revive me. Mulder paused, reached down, and held me in his arms, crying softly into my hair. "I'm sorry, Dana."  
  
A siren was heard screaming down the street. Red lights flashed in through the window and danced along the ceiling as the ambulance pulled up. Mulder placed me back on the mat and went to the bathroom door. The paramedics rushed in and began their work. They almost immediately used the defibrillator to restart my heart. One of the medics reached over and lightly closed my eyes. I felt them cut open my shirt and prepare me before using the paddles. Then a paramedic called,  
  
"Clear!"  
  
* ~ * ~ *  
  
I cried out at the sensation of something touching my shoulder. Someone was seated beside me. I lashed out at whatever it was.  
  
"It's okay, Scully. It's me," said Mulder. He held my arms to try and calm me down. He reached over and turned on the bedside lamp. "You're all right." Instantly I found his face and saw the heavy look of concern in his eyes. Then I sat up to wrap my arms around his neck. I needed to prove I was awake and I just wanted him to hold me. He pulled me close. The safety of his embrace soothed my rapidly beating heart.  
  
"God, that was terrible." I said with a heavy sigh.  
  
"What happened?" Mulder asked.  
  
"I had a nightmare." I said softly as I slid out of his arms.  
  
"That's what I figured. I heard you scream."  
  
"I screamed?"  
  
"Yeah, I thought I'd come see what was wrong." Mulder said as he moved a damp strand of hair from my face. "It must have shaken you up pretty badly."  
  
"It did." I looked down and noticed my hands were trembling. Obviously Mulder noticed it as well. He placed his hand over mine and gave a small squeeze. There was a slight awkwardness in the room. Mulder searched for something more to say whereas I was fighting against the horrible images from my dream.  
  
"Answer me one thing Mulder," I began as my eyes rose to meet his, "Donnie Pfaster is dead, right?" He seemed confused as to why I would ask such a question.  
  
"Two bullet holes did the job," he said. My eyes blinked away tears as I heard the confirmation. I began to weep.  
  
"It was just a dream." I said through tears. Mulder took me in his arms once again, shielding me from my dream demons but most from my own fears. "You're safe now." he whispered then kissed the top of my head. I pulled back and looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes.  
  
"Stay with me." He nodded and slipped into the bed alongside me. I soon found myself sinking into the depths of sleep enveloped in Mulder's arms. No more nightmares. 


End file.
